


A Bug's Life, But Like, Not

by Sirifall



Category: Half life but the AI are self-aware
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollow Knight, bug boys doing bug boy things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: “Your name’s Gordon?”He startles at the question. “Oh. Guess I forgot to say. Uh, again.” Okay Gordon, clear throat, square shoulders, just like you were taught. “Hello, my name’s Gordon Freeman, I’m- uh—” Fuck, why does he always stumble at that part? “I’m a traveling cartographer.”Benrey snorts. “You just sneeze, bro? What’s a car-gart-toe-fer?”“Cartographer!”
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	A Bug's Life, But Like, Not

Gordon thinks getting through the front gates should be easy. He’s climbed higher peaks in Pharloom, not to mention dropped far greater distances, and after all his time traversing places like Snowy Shore he’s pretty confident in his survivability. All he really needs is his sweet pitch-black armor and his trusty hooked nail, after all. He can definitely take whatever this empty kingdom has in store.

Black Mesa. This place has been calling him for a long, _long_ while but in the last few years that yearning has gotten unbearable. He wants – needs – to be here, taking in the sights and carefully logging them in parchment like he always has. Something in his chest warms as he crosses the invisible boundary between the Wastes and the kingdom, and he happily reaches into his bag for a quill and paper to mark his first steps into this long-dead legend.

Or he would, if a sudden screaming flash of pure _light_ didn’t bury itself in the sand two steps in front of him.

Gordon screeches and tries to backpedal so fast he falls on his ass, scrabbling away from the now-smoking divot in the ground as he looks around for – what could have done that? An _aspid?_ What kind of fucked-up aspids do they have in Black Mesa!? He scrambles behind the mummified corpse of a giant bug, praying that it can stand against whatever the fuck tried to hit him but not really expecting it to, and holds his nail at the ready.

Fuck. Not even ten steps in and startled stupid. What even _is_ Black Mesa?

He peeks around the shell acting as his shelter. The only thing in front of him is the cliffside, but- he doesn’t see any aspids? Certainly not anything that looks like it could shoot something that hard; the ground where it hit only just stopped smoking. But the only things decorating the platforms ahead are tiktiks and vengeflies! What could have done that?

He gets his answer in the form of another flash. It hits his hooked nail dead-on, sending it careening through the air and behind one of the multiple corpses littered around – wow, nice going Gordon, the _multiple giant corpses_ didn’t give you enough of a heads up? – and out of sight as something, _someone_ , drops down from above.

A yellow-red cloak shifts and settles around the new, frighteningly tall bug, and Gordon holds his hands up in surrender.

They seem surprised.

“Y-you’re not infected?”

Gordon blinks at the oddly high voice of the stranger. “I- um, infected? Uh, no man, I’m just- just a traveler. H-here to see the sights and all.”

The stranger tilts their V-shaped mask and steps closer. “Your- your eyes are framed orange! I thought you were infected!”

“Huh?” He feels around his mask. “No, dude, that’s- that’s just me, man. My carapace is orange.”

“How come some parts are black then? Parts of you are blacker than- than the space between stars, and I don’t really see that very often!”

“I’d be surprised if you saw it at all,” he says, relaxing a bit. It doesn’t seem like this bug actually wants to hurt a non-infected person, whatever the hell ‘infected’ means. Obviously something to do with orange. “I’ve never really seen this kind of armor on other bugs, and I’ve been all over.”

“Wow. What kind of places have you been?”

“Uh- Pharloom. Ambrvane. Snowy Shore?”

The stranger bends down further, mask now at eye-level with him. “Whoa, Ambrvane is so far! You must be a- a traveling expert!”

Gordon nods and puts his hands down. “In a way, I guess. I was, uh, just looking to add Black Mesa to my list of places!”

“Oh.”

They straighten back to their terrifying height.

“I’m afraid Black Mesa isn’t safe, sir. There’s an infection going around, and- and there’s not really anything that can stop it.” Their voice gets heavier at that last part, one hand clutching at their bright cloak. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I should let you in. You’ll have to skip this place.”

“I- No way!” He says completely on instinct. Something in his head says no and, well, he’s learned to listen to that something, because it’s usually the only thing that keeps him going. “I-I know you’re trying to look out for me, but I need to get in.”

“You shouldn’t, sir, it’s not safe.”

“ _You_ seem fine! Fine enough to give random travelers heart attacks, at least,” he says, the big brain part of his psyche finally re-engaging. “You know how to not get infected! You can just tell me how, and I’ll be fine.”

“It’s _really_ not that simple.” They insist. “I-I’ve read every single book there is in the whole kingdom and there’s nothing about- about fighting it that actually _works_. I’m just really, really lucky – luckier than a whole patch of mutant clovers! ‘Random travelers’ aren’t usually that lucky.”

“I am super lucky, dude, I’ll show you—”

“And either way, I’m supposed to be keeping everyone out no matter how lucky they are, so—”

“ _Come on_ , please? You really don’t understand, I need to go in—”

“I’m _sorry_ , I can’t—”

“Yo.”

Gordon blinks. Looks up.

Sitting on top of the giant corpse he’d been hiding behind is another massive bug. Their mask is a weird shade of blue, partially covered by their blue-black cloak, and forms a D-shape around their face with the fabric near completely obscuring their eyes in shadow. In fact, the fabric practically swaddles them in bruised tones – he can’t even see where their limbs are resting, just getting the implication that they’re lounging on top of a mummified bug like it’s a throne.

The first stranger tilts their head. “Benrey?”

“Tommy!”

“Hi.”

‘Benrey’ hops down from their seat and lands heavily, swinging an arm around ‘Tommy’s shoulders. They’re nearly the same height, Benrey being only about a hand’s width shorter. “Tommy!”

Gordon can only watch in stunned silence as the newcomer hums a high note that – somehow, _someway_ – casts the black of their eyes a bright teal. Wind stirs the tattered bottom of their long cloak, sending it swishing around in the sand as they hum, only stilling when the noise stops.

Tommy seems to think there is nothing wrong with this.

“Anyway, sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I…” Gordon stares at the other bug. “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“Th-the light? And the hum? What- what just happened, what did you just do?”

“Oh. That.” They make an obnoxious clicking sound that goes on for a good five seconds. “It’s my sweet voice.”

“’Sweet Voice’? I don’t know what that is.” He squints up at the other bug, trying desperately to puzzle out whatever anomaly apparently just randomly decided to plop into his journey. “What- does it do anything?”

Benrey laughs – Benrey _cackles_ , like Gordon just said the funniest thing they’re ever heard. “Yeah man, the Sweet Voice, with the capitals. The ol’ S.V. That’s what it is. Uh.” He hums again, eyes lighting up a _completely different color_ this time, a green-blue mix. “It’s like. For friendly times. Nice friend colors.”

“Colors and sounds don’t usually go together like that.”

“Oh? You know what colors go where? Got a- uh, big smart brain? Spare brain?” They lean into his space. “Spare brain for friend Benrey, please? I got like. No brain. Head empty hours. Spare brain?”

Irritated, Gordon pushes them back. “No! No spare brain, Gordon needs that brain, thanks.”

“Aw. Fuckin’ – stingy. Gordon selfish.”

Tommy takes the opportunity to pull Benrey a little farther away. “Your name’s Gordon?”

He startles at the question. “Oh. Guess I forgot to say. Uh, again.” Okay Gordon, clear throat, square shoulders, just like you were taught. “Hello, my name’s Gordon Freeman, I’m- uh—” Fuck, why does he always stumble at that part? “I’m a traveling cartographer.”

Benrey snorts. “You just sneeze, bro? What’s a car-gart-toe-fer?”

“ _Cartographer!_ ” He stomps in frustration. “I make maps, man! That’s what that means!”

“Oh, chill. Hey, you wanna make a map here?”

Tommy’s head whips over to them. “Benrey, _no_.”

“Yeah, actually,” Gordon says, anger cooling almost immediately. “That’s kind of the whole reason I’m here.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool, we need to see some permission slips though? Got an invite?”

Ah, and there’s where his temper went. “An- an _invite_? Dude, this kingdom’s practically dead, no one lives here. There’s no one left to give any invites!”

“That’s- that’s not strictly true, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy seems to frown down at him. “We live here!”

“And we sure didn’t invite any gopher-mans.”

“Cartographer-man.” He says, and immediately feels ten times more stupid. But also somehow a little smarter, because that gives him an idea. He angles his head up at Benrey. Maybe… “You could invite me?”

“Wuh?”

“Mr. Freeman—”

“I’m just saying! If that’s the only problem, you could just invite me in.” He says, watching Benrey tilt their head, seemingly thinking it over. “Look, I even have paper and a quill if you want to make it official, you could sign it and everything.”

“Oh shit. Guess I could.”

“ _Benrey_.”

“Calm down, bro, I got it.”

They kneel down to Gordon’s level, and he hastily pulls out the paper and quill he was trying to grab before Tommy made their entrance. But… Benrey doesn’t take them when they’re offered. They just stay there, still as a statue. Staring. “Uh. Dude?”

“Bro, shut up, I’m doin’ a. Inspection.”

And they just keep sitting there.

Gordon looks at them. Then at Tommy. “What are they ‘inspecting’ for?”

“Try’na tell if you’re mean or not,” Benrey says. “Tommy likes mean people, would explain why he was takin’ so long to talk to you.”

“… Tommy likes mean people.” He looks up at Tommy for clarification, but they – he? – just shrugs. As if to say ‘yeah, what about it’. That clarified nothing.

So Gordon just sort of lets himself be inspected for the next thirty-or-so seconds until Benrey seems satisfied enough. “So what’s the verdict?”

“Oh. Uh.” They think on it. “Your, uh, super means-man. You’re gonna scare people, dude. Can’t let you walk around alone.”

Gordon straightens in offence. “Maybe _you’re_ mean!”

“No you.”

“No! You!”

“Myeh myeh myeh. Gordon Mean-man. Gotta make sure you don’t scare people.”

“Wh- What does that _mean_?”

Suddenly Benrey is back in his personal space, mask so close that Gordon has to take a step back to get all of him in view. “Easy, bro,” they say, and hum a quick note. Their eyes flash sky-blue for a moment, breeze curling around Gordon’s feet. “Means I’m gonna show you around.”


End file.
